The Taming of a Vixen

by Wendy Stone

  There was something sinfully erotic about watching his dark fingers slip inside her wet, pink cunt, seeing them emerge damp, shining with her juices as he slowly fucked her. He pushed in and out of her, watching his hand, the velvety heat of her channel mesmerizing him.

  “Jason?” she moaned, her head twisting upon the end of the sofa. “Oh, you’re going to make it happen again,” she cried, her hips moving, trying to speed up the thrust of his hand.

  “Mmm, yes, my love, I want you to come again. I want you to come on my hand like you just did my tongue.” He kept thrusting, using his other hand to pull open his breeches, groaning as the tight, constricting fabric fell loose around his throbbing cock. “And then I’m going to make you come on my cock. I’m going to make you come until you can barely raise your head.”

  She moved against his hand, her fingers coming down to wrap around his wrist, dragging him harder against her. It came again, that rush of heat from deep within, rising over her flesh to leave her flushed and panting. She dug her nails into his wrist, arching her hips against him, her body stretched tight by pleasure.

  When she lay back once more, Jason rose, yanking down his breeches and kicking them off, kneeling between her thighs. As he pulled her closer to the edge of the sofa she opened her eyes to mere slits, the hazy gray barely visible under the thick curtain of her lashes.

  And then he was pushing inside of the steamy heat, her well-lubricated walls parting under the pressure of his cock, bathing him with her juices.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned as he grabbed her hips. His hands shook as he pulled her ever tighter against him, throwing his head back and gritting his teeth at the pleasure of being wrapped in that tight sheath.

  He moved against her slowly, ignoring his body’s demand to thrust hard and fast, taking what was his. He kept his strokes long and even, not hurrying, waiting until he felt her respond. She gasped as the desire coiled again and again, deeper, tighter in her belly. His hands went to her breast, holding it, treasuring the sleek feel of the soft weight, the turgid tip centered in his palm as he softly kneaded the plump mound.

  “Alyssa.” Her name on his lips caressed her ears as his fingers did her skin. “Open your eyes,” he ordered.

  “I want to watch you come,” he groaned, leaning closer and brushing her lips with his. “I want you to watch me,” he hissed between gritted teeth as her body clenched under him. “I love you, Alyssa.”

  Her hands went to his hair, holding him close, her lips brushing against his as she panted. His body slammed into her, driving her closer even as he drove himself. Finally, feeling her pulse around him, seeing the dazed ecstasy in her eyes, he allowed himself his own release, spewing his seed into her.

  He lay with her, moving so that she was surrounded by him and the sofa, her head resting on his shoulder. They spoke of little things, and she delighted him with her giggles and laughter.

  And the invitation lay with the rest, forgotten for the moment as the young couple celebrated their love in the most elemental of ways.

  * * * *

  Alyssa sat at her desk later, smiling and humming after having sent Jason on his way once more. She had correspondence to complete and she didn’t need him about to distract her anymore.

  But, ah, what a sweet distraction he was, she mused, her smile widening to a grin as she looked over at the well-used sofa. She shook her head, her mind wandering off the correspondence she needed to do and back to her irrepressible husband.

  She picked up the invitations that had arrived, making notes of the dates upon her social calendar and circling a few she thought that might appeal to Jason, especially a hunt, given by the same Lady M whose party had begun their own madcap romance. Alyssa had to shake her head at the thought of Lady M astride a horse. The lady in question, despite her desire to be young was well past the age of setting a horse with any respectability.

  Strange handwriting caught her eye, a beautiful flourishing hand. She lifted it, catching the scent of gardenias from the paper and smiled. It was such a pretty touch to an invitation.

  Opening the folded note, she glanced at the name on the bottom, her brow crinkling as she tried to remember why the name was familiar. Ah, yes, the lady from the party, the one her husband had been so secretive about. The invitation was for tea, this afternoon, at her residence. A frown crossed her face concerning the lack of time to prepare for the meeting, but the idea of coming home with news of Jason instead of him coming home with news for her was appealing. Alyssa rang for a footman to bring around a response to the invitation, stating she would be there at the required time.

  She hurried up the stairs, going to her room and calling for her maid. She had to change if she was going to go meet a lady from Jason’s past.

  * * * *

  Jason was still out when she was ready to leave, so she left a message with the butler to let him know where she was and when she would be returning.

  The residence was close to her father’s home, very close to the place where she and Jason had met. The sight brought a smile to her lips and a sparkle to her gray eyes, which remained as the coachman helped her from the coach, going to ring the bell on the small but well-maintained townhouse.

  Her hostess answered the door herself, smiling delightedly as she ushered Alyssa inside the small foyer, taking her light coat and laying it across a small, antique chair that was all curves and gilt.

  “I’m so glad that you could make it on such short notice. I do apologize for not getting the invitation out sooner but as you can see,” Abigail paused and rubbed her bulging stomach. “I shan’t be out in public much longer.”

  “Then I take it congratulations are in order, for you and your husband,” Alyssa said, trying to remember how the woman had signed the invitation. She was rather shocked by how far along she seemed to be. Perhaps as far along as she was herself, she thought, remembering the look upon Abigail’s face at the wedding, the scene she’d interrupted between this woman and her husband.

  Abigail ushered Alyssa into a small drawing room where a tray with tea and condiments was arranged. She sat in the chair she was offered, watching as Abigail fussed with her cup before handing it over to her.

  “Who did you marry?” Alyssa asked, taking a small sip of the strong brew. The tea had an unusual taste. Alyssa took another small sip, trying to place it. It was faintly herbal, but not familiar. Shrugging, she gave up. The lady gave a pleased smile as Alyssa lowered the cup from her lips.

  Alyssa wondered at the expression. It didn’t seem like an “isn’t this a pleasant afternoon” smile. It had a very different feel to it. Almost predatory. When Abigail spoke again, her voice was colder than before. The warmth in it had fled, like the warmth of the afternoon sun seemed to be fleeing from Alyssa’s hands and arms.

  “Jason Ashington will be my husband,” Abigail said. “For I carry his child. It will be my son who will be Jason’s heir.”

  “What?” Alyssa said, shocked, setting the cup down. There was a strange taste in her mouth and her limbs seemed to be numb. She stumbled as she tried to rise, falling back into the chair.

  “Jason will never come to me while you are here. And so, though you’ve been kind to me considering you don’t even know who I am, I am afraid that I must kill you.” Abigail stood, carefully moving the cup of drug laced tea away from Alyssa’s hand. “As soon as you are dead, Jason will realize that he loves me, and then he will return to my bed. Only this time, I shan’t be a dalliance. No, I shall be a duchess and his wife,” she said proudly, her pale blue eyes shining.

  “He would never turn to you,” Alyssa muttered, feeling the dull gray whirlpool of unconsciousness opening below her, trying to suck her down into its black depths. “He’ll find me, Abigail,” she moaned, grabbing a hold of the chair as she fought to stay awake. “He knows where I am.”

  “If he knew you were coming here, he’d have stopped you, you stupid rich cow. What man would let his wife have tea with his mistress?” She grinned as she
saw the look in Alyssa’s eyes, the surprise at hearing the word. “Yes, I am his mistress. He left here just a few moments before you arrived,” she lied.

  Alyssa blinked, fighting to keep her eyes open. She remembered Jason’s words earlier, while he was loving her, of how she was the only women he’d been with since they’d met. Could she believe him? Yes, she believed him.

  “You may have had him before he met me, but not since. I know. He wouldn’t do this to me, not when he loves me.” The last few sentences were mumbled and faint, her voice fading.

  Abigail moved closer, straining to hear the words. She leaned over Alyssa, reaching down to tip up her face.

  Alyssa moved swiftly, her hand rising like a bolt of lightning, striking out at the woman who meant to do her harm. She connected solidly, a jolt of pain going up an arm still weak from her fall down the stairs, but she couldn’t stop. As Abigail fell back, Alyssa came unsteadily to her feet and weaved towards the door.

  She felt her hip hit a small desk, and stumbled against the chair that went with it; but then she was at the door, her hand grasping the handle and pulling as she tried to twist it. She felt Abigail’s hand wrap in her hair and yank, displacing her pins and the small hat she’d fixed in place before she’d left. The older woman wrapped her arm around Alyssa’s throat, hauling her backwards with uncanny strength, cutting off her air.

  “You bitch!” Abigail screamed, twisting to throw Alyssa to the ground before falling atop of her.

  The drug in her system made Alyssa slow and her hands didn’t come up fast enough to stop the woman from wrapping her hands around Alyssa’s throat, her fingers brutally squeezing, cutting off her air.

  “He’s mine,” Abigail crowed, laughing as Alyssa fought under her, turning red as she was deprived of needed oxygen. “He’s mine! With you gone, I shall move into his home and be his wife.”

  “Be damned if you will,” Jason said from behind her, snatching her away from Alyssa.

  “No!!” Abigail shouted, staring as the man she longed for fell to the ground next to his wife, gathering her in his arms as she gasped for air. “No! She has to die, Jason. She has to.”

  Running to a basket in the corner of the room, Abigail pulled out a pair of wickedly sharp scissors, running her fingers over the gleaming blade as she watched Jason pick up his wife. He turned his back to her and she dashed forward, the blades sparkling in the light coming in through the window. She hurled herself across the floor, determined to bury the blade in his back. For if she couldn’t have him, then no one could. And her son would still be duke, for she carried his heir.

  A loud explosion shook the room and Jason spun on his heel to see Abigail staring down at the hole in her shoulder. The scissors dropped from her numbing fingers. She almost seemed to melt, falling to the ground bonelessly, her blood soaking into the carpet under her.

  Teddy stood in the doorway, a smoking pistol in his hand. He nodded at Jason. Jason nodded back in thanks before continuing out the door and into Teddy’s waiting carriage.

  “Jason?” Alyssa groaned, her voice somewhat husky. “Is she dead?”

  “No, my love. But she will wish she was. Teddy will get the guards and she will most likely spend the rest of her life in Bedlam Sanatorium.” He laid her across his lap, his hands gentle as they touched the bruises on her neck. “When I arrived home with Teddy in tow, I was informed of your whereabouts. I couldn’t believe my ears.”

  “How was I to know who she was? She gave me something, some drug to make me sleepy.” Alyssa rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes closing. “What of her baby?” she said sleepily.

  “What of it?” he asked, reaching for the lap robe and wrapping her in it.

  “Is it yours?”

  Despite his resolve to never lie to her again, Jason felt a touch of unease at the question. “It could be love, but it could also belong to a number of other men. I cannot be sure.”

  “Then we’d better find out,” she murmured. “For if she is going to Bedlam, what would happen to the baby?”

  Epilogue

  Alyssa and Jason became parents of a beautiful baby boy. His eyes were gray like his mother’s, but his hair held the darkness of his father. He came into this world with a strong weight and was hale and hearty.

  On the day that Abigail gave birth, having been condemned to Bedlam for an extended period, Alyssa and Jason went and collected the baby, adopting her as one of their own.

  She was beautiful, a small precocious blonde with hair that shone so light at times to appear white. Her eyes were clear and blue, the color of a cloudless sky on a summer afternoon. She was born weeks after their little boy, alleviating the suspicion that Jason could have been the father. Neither let that fact stop them from adopting her and raising her as their own.

  About the Author

  A small town girl with a master’s degree from the School of Hard Knocks, Wendy started writing as a way to combat boredom and keep from gaining dress sizes after an injury to her back kept her from working. No one was more surprised than she when people actually enjoyed what she wrote.

  Writing as Daniellekitten, Wendy has won many awards for her writing, including Most Influential Writer in 2005 at Literotica.com, as well as Most Literary—Genre Transcending. She’s been nominated for many of the Reader’s Choice awards, as well as the monthly awards at the same website.

  Wendy Stone resides in a small Michigan town, spending most of her time writing and enjoying time with her animals and the company of her family.